The Pinnacle
by coalesce
Summary: Abandoned by her strumpet mother, Mikan grew up in the Imai family. Now a top student at the Alice Academy, her mother wants her back. She faces a difficult choice: stay with the woman she longed for, or go back to those she loves?
1. Kidnapped

To those who put me on Author Alert and got this weird e-mail telling you about a new story from 'Itchyworm', all I'd like to say is that this is Dear Julie here. This is the longest story I've ever written so far, and it's definitely not my usual style. Or so I think. This is rated T for a reason – swearing and certain innuendo.

If you cannot cope with the ideas of prostitution and child abuse, click the 'back' button now.

This was sort of a trigger piece of writing – I was listening to "This Ain't A Scene, It's An Arms Race" (yet another Fall Out Boy song) when this idea popped into my head.

Enjoy.

\\\**  
The Pinnacle  
1: Kidnapped**  
\\\

"God damn it, Sakura," Rumiko Imai swore, running a hand through her short raven locks. Wrinkles creased her forehead, eyebrows knotted in anger. "What do you think you're doing, abandoning your kid like that?"

"I want to leave her here for a few years." The brunette shrugged, leaning against Imai's doorway and taking a long drag of her cigarette. A little girl – a miniature replica of her mother – cowered behind her legs, silently assessing the adults' conversation with wide eyes. She carried a black backpack that was bigger than she.

"Damn it," Imai swore again. "I've already got two kids of my own to raise."

Smoke tendrils blew out of Naoko Sakura's nostrils. "Big deal," she said nonchalantly, flicking her blunt cigarette into Imai's bushes. "You've got one in a boarding school all year round, so you've only got one kid at home. You've raised two kids – another one won't be too much trouble for you."

Imai glared at the obnoxious woman, a look of contempt marring her features. "Asshole. You're a real fine piece of shit. Some mother you are."

"Yeah, yeah, like I haven't heard that fifty million times before." Sakura rolled her eyes, fishing in her skirt pocket for a packet of cigarettes. "Listen, I'll come back for her in a few years' time, alright? She's a clever kid – she'll get along real fine with your Hotaru. Besides, she doesn't eat much, so taking care of her shouldn't be too expensive."

"That's because you haven't fed her enough for her to know what a real meal is like!" Imai snapped, pointing at Sakura's daughter. The little girl hugged her mother's leg in fear. "She's all skin and bones!"

It was Sakura's turn to glare at the angry woman. "So are you going to take her in or not?" She reached behind her, grasped the handle of the obscenely large backpack her daughter was carrying, and roughly shoved her forward.

The little girl gasped as she nearly collided with Imai's knees, but was caught by the shoulders by the raven-haired woman. Imai knelt so she was eye level with the little girl, and smiled. Her previous visage of disgusted anger was gone.

"Are you hurt, Mikan?" she asked kindly. Her voice sounded so loving and motherly, it made Mikan blush as she shook her head slightly. Her mother never spoke to her with that tone of voice before.

Imai clutched the little girl protectively, scowling fiercely at the brunette. The contemptuous look had replaced her kind smile. "You're not fit to be a mother," she hissed, which caused the other woman to roll her eyes again. Then she sighed. "I'll take Mikan in, but –"

"Oh, there is a God!" Sakura screamed happily, tilting her head to the sky and spreading her arms out wide in euphoria. Imai's frown deepened and she cleared her throat to get the woman's attention.

"But on one condition," Imai continued. Her tone was deadly serious. "You must never look for Mikan. Never."

Sakura grinned broadly and cried, "Deal!" She planted a light kiss on her daughter's cheek before running down the pathway that led up to the Imais' front door.

"Bye, kid!" she yelled, waving an arm in the air as she got into her boyfriend's red convertible.

Mikan barrelled down the pathway, tripping a few times due to her ridiculously large backpack. "Mama! Mama!"

"Oh, shit," Sakura muttered. She pushed on a pair of sunglasses and told her boyfriend to drive. The car sped off down the road, leaving a cloud of dust for the poor little girl to cough in.

"Mikan!" Imai cried, gathering her skirt as she ran to the little girl's side. "Are you hurt?" Was she crying?

Mikan stared in the direction the car had sped off. She got up and dusted her knees. Her expression was unreadable. Imai took Mikan's bag, slinging it over her shoulder. She tugged the little girl's hand, taking her into the house.

Once inside, Imai thumbed through Mikan's belongings, which were stuffed haphazardly into the backpack. She clucked disapprovingly at Mikan's thin garbs her mother called clothes.

Meanwhile, the little girl explored the living room, her eyes wide as she looked at the paintings on the walls, the lush carpets on the floor, and the family portraits that adorned the tables. She had never seen anything like it before – the apartment she had lived in consisted of nothing more than a room with bare walls, a bed shoved in a corner, a kitchen stove and refrigerator in another and a tiny bathroom.

Her eyes landed on a picture set in a simple, wooden frame. A man, woman, a little girl and an older boy were in the picture, smiling as they posed with a huge fish they had caught at a lake. Mikan deduced that the woman in the photograph was Imai, and the rest were her family.

She stared at the little girl in the frame, mentally replacing her in the photo. She had never met her father, or any other family member for that matter, so she thought it must be nice to have a family.

"Who are you?" a voice asked.

Mikan turned around and came face to face with the girl from the photograph. She had short black hair and large, purple eyes. Her fair skin glowed with health. She looked very pretty in her powder blue summer dress.

Mikan suddenly felt self-conscious, twirling one of her hazel pigtails in her fingers. She felt inferior to this pretty girl in her dusty oversized shirt and baggy shorts. "I'm Mikan," she said shyly. Her voice was small and hoarse from disuse.

The other girl narrowed her eyes at the stranger. "I'm Hotaru. How old are you, Mikan-chan?"

Mikan drew circles in the carpet with her big toe. "Four."

Hotaru's eyes narrowed further in suspicion. "Same as me. But you're smaller than me. Awfully skinny, aren't you?"

Mikan lowered her head, staring at her bare feet. She couldn't think of anything to say.

Hotaru assessed the brunette for a moment, before taking one of her grubby hands in hers. "You're skinny," she repeated, "so let's go eat some crab roe together."

Mikan burst into a beatific smile. She had thought that this Hotaru girl didn't like her, but now she was inviting her to be friends. With her free hand, she rubbed tears from her eyes. "Okay!" she sniffed.

Hand in hand, the two girls skipped to the kitchen for a snack.

Hotaru was the first friend Mikan ever made.

\\\

"Hey, Hotaru?" Mikan called from her sitting position by the windowsill. She was fifteen now, no longer a little girl pining for a mother who neglected her.

Her long, hazel hair was pulled into two low braids tied with red lace. A large, dark blue star-shaped stud was in her left ear. Long, thigh-high tube socks hugged her legs. Even though classes had been dismissed hours ago, she was still in the prestigious Alice Academy's high school uniform. Colourful badges and buttons adorned her black blazer, which she wrapped tighter around her as she watched the falling snow, feeling the temperature dropping.

"What is it?" Hotaru asked absent-mindedly from the table she was working at. She too was still in her school uniform, though it wasn't as heavily customised as Mikan's. She had been too engrossed in the schematics of her latest invention to change once she got back to the dormitory room she and the brunette shared.

Her boyish crop of raven hair was now past her shoulders. Hotaru said that she didn't have time to cut it short again, but Mikan liked to believe that her best friend was growing it out for a boy she liked.

"I read somewhere that if your IQ is 150 or above, and if you marry a guy whose IQ is also 150 or above, your kid will have Down's Syndrome or some other mental handicap."

At this, Hotaru looked up from her work and raised a sceptical eyebrow at her roommate. "What are you getting at?"

Mikan grinned sheepishly. "You're one of the smartest students on campus, and you're bound to get a boyfriend from this school. I mean, you can't possibly fall for a guy who's stupider than you."

A manic gleam had entered her amber eyes, and she got up from her position at the window and paced about the room. Hotaru sighed, confirming that Mikan had gotten yet another crazy idea into her head.

"And you'd probably marry that guy!" Mikan gushed, twirling like a ballerina. The pastel coloured scarves around her neck twirled with her, and one hit her squarely in the face when she stopped. Hotaru sniggered in amusement.

Mikan brushed off the scarf like she was used to it, and continued, "And you'll live in a big house – surely you two will be rich from all the money you get from your inventions. And you'll have kids! Oooh, I can imagine a mini Hotaru! That's so cute!" She squealed, blushing and clutching her cheeks girlishly.

"But," her voice became quiet and serious. She marched up to where Hotaru sat, placing an arm on her chair and levelling gazes with the practical genius girl. "Do you really want to have a kid with a mental handicap? Surely you wouldn't want to put him through all that?"

"Or her," Hotaru said, turning back to her work. "I don't know where you get these crazy fantasies about me from. Besides, I wouldn't have a son – an appallingly inferior male – or much less marry, for that instance. All men are idiots."

Mikan laughed, waving a hand dismissively. "Not all men. Look at Albert Einstein!"

"He is an exception," Hotaru explained. "But all men of the twenty-first century are idiots." She glared at Mikan. The brunette gulped.

"Even the boys in the Academy?" Mikan said incredulously. "Come on, Hotaru. This is a school for _geniuses_. No one whose IQ is below 150 is permitted to enrol here."

"But there are people like _you_," Hotaru said dryly. Mikan feigned hurt.

"Aw, come on, Hotaru," she whined. "Surely there must be at least one boy you deem worthy of your approval."

"Are you insinuating that I should get into a relationship?" Hotaru snapped. "Are you embarrassed that I am the only girl – besides you, of course, but then again it's just _you_, after all – our age who has never gotten into a relationship?"

"Hotaru," Mikan started, horrified that her friend would think of her so lowly, but she was cut off as Hotaru continued her verbal rampage.

"If you should ever get a boyfriend, and when – yes, when, not if – he hurts you, I will personally castrate him. And even if he is a remotely acceptable male, he will have to meet my standards or I forbid you to see him." Her eyes narrowed. "Don't even think about going behind my back with a boy – doing so will damage my trust in you."

Mikan sighed. "Is this about your father again?" she asked quietly.

When the raven-haired teenager did not answer, Mikan did not peruse the matter.

"So you still feel that way about guys, huh," she breathed, flopping down on her bed. Actually, it was more than that – even though the two had been close friends for over a decade, Hotaru still doubted Mikan's worth. She never really treated Mikan as a friend either, except in private. She always condemned her in front of others for her mathematical stupidity or her innate clumsiness.

"Hotaru?"

No answer.

"Hotaru, I'm sorry."

Silence again.

"I didn't know you were still hurting from that. I mean, it was years ago."

Hotaru's swivel chair creaked as she leaned forward to shade her blueprint.

"I guess it's still too early to make jokes about it, huh?" Mikan chuckled weakly. Hotaru's silence was unnerving.

Sighing, the brunette rolled over in bed, entangling herself in sheets and scarves. She hugged her knees to her chest and, back turned to Hotaru, let tears streak down her face silently.

\\\

Ruka Nogi whistled as he scanned through the newspaper.

"Hey, Natsume, it's the girl you like," he said loudly. Two other boys sitting nearby in the boys' dormitory lounge crowded around the blond.

"Mikan Sakura, eh?" Kokoroyomi waggled his eyebrows at Natsume Hyuuga, who was reclining on the couch, impassive as ever. "She's in the newspapers again, I see. Girl, published at fourteen. Her book's won another award."

"Heh, another of the Academy's pride and joy," Mochu remarked. He turned to Ruka. "And you're saying that Hyuuga's interested in this nutjob?"

Natsume snarled, taking offence at the insult. Mochu said hurriedly, "Oh, it's not that she's crazy or anything! I've just seen her around campus – gaudy clothes, bright scarves, funny socks… She's um, a little eccentric, is all."

Natsume grunted, seemingly satisfied with the reply.

"But Natsume's rather unfortunate to have fallen for her," Ruka commented, folding the newspaper neatly and setting it on the glass coffee table. "The Academy sees her as a gem – they won't let her leave this place so easily after graduation. In fact, they'll probably start controlling and watching her every move soon, now that she's unexpectedly risen to fame."

"Yeah, she's sure got some spunk," Koko said sagely. "I hear she escaped from the Academy and got published through a contact."

Mochu raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Why couldn't she just have sent the manuscript by mail?"

"You know how the higher-ups always check our letters and packages before sending them off," Ruka explained. "If they knew that Mikan was trying to get published, they'd have burned the manuscript and blacklisted her."

"But she managed to get published once she was outside the campus," Koko said, nodding. "The Academy was furious and wanted to stop the printing because she went behind the higher-ups' backs. She made the papers for being published at such a young age."

"But now that she's famous, the Academy is finally recognising her talent," Mochu remarked, catching on. "They're differentiating her from the other smart asses that are in this school."

"So she's like a super smart ass!" Mochu and Koko clutched their stomachs in peals of laughter.

Ruka frowned, glancing worriedly at Natsume. He was afraid that he would do something violent for the insult, like knocking the two boys' noggins together.

Natsume simply picked up the newspaper on the table, scanning through articles with his crimson eyes. "Pretty funny how you guys seem to find my interest in the Sakura girl fascinating."

Koko and Mochu stopped to look at him curiously.

Natsume dropped the paper, pointing to a certain article as he leaned back into the plush couch. "Did you know that Ruka here has his eyes set on one of those 'super smart asses' as well?"

Ruka turned beet red as the others roared with laughter upon glancing at the picture on the article – it was Hotaru Imai, campus Mensa genius and first class ice queen, holding a cheque from a food company for an invention of hers.

"Ruka and Imai? She's about as boring as a pinball!" Mochu scoffed. "Bunny boy and the ice queen? It doesn't fit!"

Koko thumped Ruka on the back. "Didn't know you had such, uh… interesting taste, Nogi, my boy!"

"Sh-shut up!" he growled, flustered. He sent a look of hatred at Natsume, who was chuckling in amusement.

Mochu suddenly sobered up. "But then again, I hear Imai really hates men."

Koko smirked. "Ruka might stand a chance, you know. He's not exactly a _man_." He ruffled Ruka's long, blond locks. The boy was mortified.

Unable to take the teasing, Ruka leapt up from his chair and grabbed his camera, preparing to leave.

"What's wrong, Nogi? Too woman to suck it up like a man?"

"Aw, come on. You do look like a girl, you know."

"Remember that _Cinderella_ play when we were ten?"

"Oh yeah! Nogi was such a hot girl!"

The two boys burst into laughter again. Ruka ignored them, placing his hand on the doorknob. "Man, I hate you guys," he growled.

"Why? The teasing?"

"Aw, we're not teasing. We're just telling the truth."

"If it's the truth, why are you getting so worked up about it?" Mochu shrugged nonchalantly. "You sound like you have some masculine inferiority complex."

Koko's milky brown eyes grew wide. "That must be it! I've seen your family picture, Nogi, and you look just like your mom! Was your dad disappointed in you or something?"

A vein popped in Ruka's temple. He rounded on them, baring his teeth like a bear. "Listen, you guys –"

Natsume clicked his tongue in reprimand. The noise coming from him was so strange that all three boys turned to look at him with wide eyes.

"Ruka, my boy. I've got a proposition for you." The Hyuuga pressed his fingertips together, regarding Ruka with calculating crimson eyes. He saw the inner turmoil in his best friend's blue eyes – through the incessant teasing, Koko and Mochu had hit the nail on the head. Indeed, Ruka did have a… father complex, and it wasn't exactly something the blond felt comfortable discussing, even in light-hearted situations.

"Koko, Mochu, you have to agree to this, too."

The two boys raised their eyebrows at the command, but nodded grimly.

"If you can get Imai to go out with you, we'll stop the teasing."

Ruka groaned. "So if I fail, the teasing will continue?"

"Yep," Natsume said gravely, nodding sagely for emphasis.

"Wait!" Mochu cried out. "When you lose, you'll have to walk around campus during lunchtime as Bunny Boy!"

"Like when we were eight." A malicious grin was on Koko's face as he recalled one of Ruka's most embarrassing memories.

The blond grimaced. His eyes roamed around the boys' lounge, taking in the dark blue couches, glass coffee tables, grey and white walls and dark carpet. It looked the same as it did when he was eight, when he first entered the Academy.

Ruka sighed in resignation. "Alright, it's a deal."

Koko and Mochu high-fived each other, and Natsume smirked. "You have a week, Nogi."

Ruka's jaw dropped open at the insanely short amount of time. No way he could charm Imai in just a week – it was _Hotaru Imai_, ice queen and man-hater extraordinaire, after all.

He opened the door to leave, but poked his head through once he was on the other side.

"By the way, boys, you can't call me Bunny Boy anymore," he hissed evenly. The room fell silent. "I stopped wearing my bunny pyjamas five years ago!"

He slammed the door in their silence, but when they heard the blond's "Oh shit!" because his blazer got caught in the door hinge, the three boys burst out laughing again.

On the receiving end of the ridicule, Ruka chuckled softly, thinking he must be silly to get worked up on an issue that had been dormant for several years now. He pulled up his left sleeve, and looked at the deep scar on his wrist – the first of many others.

He smiled, thinking of a certain raven-haired male. _Thank you, Natsume._

\\\

Unable to take Hotaru's silence, Mikan left their room to take a walk in the snow.

A black and lime green striped beanie sat proudly on her head, her long wavy locks flying in all directions. A cream-coloured trench coat flapped about her, and red and yellow scarves were wrapped around her neck. She wore fluorescent yellow tights and black boots.

She ignored the strange stares she got as she trudged through the school courtyard – she was used to it, but she also liked the attention.

"What the hell!" Mikan screamed when a bright flash suddenly went off in front of her eyes. Stunned, she fumbled around, leaning against a tree as dizziness washed over her. "What the hell," she mumbled, massaging her temples with her fingertips.

"Real nice picture, Sakura," Ruka said snidely, smirking at her picture on his camera's LCD screen. "What an attractive face you have. No wonder Natsume's head over heels for you."

"Nogi, you bastard!" Mikan roared, apparently recovered from her dizzy spell. She lunged at Ruka clumsily, who sidestepped her with ease. She fell into a heap on the snow, her unbuttoned cloak flapping into the air along with her short school skirt. Her underwear was revealed – an embarrassing lime green number with white monkey prints.

Ruka howled in sadistic laughter, trying to take blackmail photos of her. "Ah, so that's why Hyuuga likes you! You sure ain't boring!" His beam turned into a smirk. "Interesting fashion choice, as ever. Sometimes I think you do what you do just to get attention, like running away from the Academy and getting published."

His tone was playful, but Mikan took every word like bullets to the heart. "Shut the hell up, you urine-coloured sea cucumber!" she seethed. "What in the bloody nine hells of Dante do you know about me, anyway?"

Glowering balefully at the blond, the brunette sniffed contemptuously, tucking her knees behind her in a geisha-like sitting position. Calmer this time, she said, "You better not put that picture in any school publication, Nogi-asshole."

Ruka smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. Brilliant, he had just put his only hope at getting a shot with Imai (he knew for sure that he couldn't do it himself) in a bad mood. He offered his hand to help her up, and when she stared at the offending appendage, he said sincerely, "It's not diseased, you know. Your skin won't melt at my touch."

Mikan took it reluctantly, and she got up to her feet clumsily. She looked away from him, folding her arms across her chest and puffing her cheeks. She was burning an imaginary hole into the snow.

"So, what do you want, Nogi?" she asked dryly.

Ruka scratched the back of his head again, a faint blush on his cheeks. Mikan raised an elegant eyebrow at his flushed face.

"Um, Sakura, you see…" His eyebrows furrowed, trying to figure out where to start. He sighed in exasperation. The brunette, disinterested and impatient, turned away from him. Panicking, he quickly grabbed her wrist.

Mikan scowled at the blond, not too pleased with the physical contact. She wasn't very fond of the boy, especially since he once tried to kiss her when they were thirteen. He didn't seem to be romantically interested in her any more, though, but the brunette wasn't going to take any chances.

"Alright, spit it out, Nogi." Mikan rolled her eyes, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Okay, okay." Ruka closed his eyes, running a large hand through his hair. "You're Hotaru Imai's best friend, right?" He mentally slapped himself for his lame and stupid start.

Mikan stared at him like he'd just grown toenails over his eyes. "Yes, I am." She narrowed her eyes at him. "I guess you never noticed that in the two painfully long years we've known each other."

"Sorry." Ruka bowed his hand, and then looked at her shyly. "Um. Since you're her best friend and all… Ah, I was wondering if you could set me up with her."

Mikan's expression was unreadable.

"I-It doesn't have to be a-a lasting relationship," Ruka stuttered, flushing even redder. "Just one quick date is fine."

She was silent for a while, and that unnerved Ruka. Suddenly, the brunette leaned in close and whispered, "You look flushed." When she drew back, she added, "Like poop!"

She clutched her stomach laughing heartily at her own joke. A pale Ruka chuckled nervously, not quite understanding the humour in the tense situation.

When Mikan regained her composure, she smiled at the blond. She clutched both her hands in his. "Oh, Ruka. Ruka, Ruka, Ruka… Thank you so much."

"Huh?"

"Come boy, let's walk." She started in the direction of the school gates, where the fountain, water frozen, stood magnificently. Ruka awkwardly fell into step with her, fiddling with his camera strap worriedly. Mikan had always been rather imaginative (only God knows why he ever had a crush on her), so he couldn't figure out her next move.

"You have proven to me that Hotaru is indeed woman enough to attract a man." She seemed harmless enough.

Mikan turned to face him, a sunny grin on her features. "Sure, I'll try and get you a date with Hotaru."

The boy perked up. "Really? It won't be too hard on you, will it? Can you set me up with her a week from now?"

Mikan gave him a thumbs-up. "Hotaru gets her way with me through blackmail. I get my way with her through bribery." The brunette's smile became wicked, and her eyes narrowed maliciously. "Now, what bait shall I use this time…?"

Ruka's shoulders slumped. The little flicker of hope inside him died out, and he resigned to mental images of parading the campus in a little white bunny costume that was too small for him. He could imagine his arms and legs sticking out from the ripped white costume, his fluffy tail being squirted at by evil little kids with their water guns. His face crumpled sourly at the mental picture of Koko and Mochi laughing hysterically, pounding the ground with their fists.

The brunette beside him hopped daintily onto the fountain's rim, dancing gaily as she recited how effectively she could bribe the raven-haired genius with different kinds of food – they had reached the gates now, and the black wrought-iron gates looked frail in the shards of ice that encased them.

Mikan suddenly screamed, awakening Ruka out of his hellish daydream. "What's wrong?" He grasped his camera, in photographer mode. Perhaps he would be able to snag a photo of Bigfoot or a polar bear in labour…

Ah, his dreams were crushed however when he saw it was only Mikan falling off the fountain and landing squarely on her posterior. He ran to her, bending slightly as he helped her to her feet for the second time that day.

"You're so clumsy," he chided. "Why do you always seem to fall down when you're around me? Could it be that you're falling for me?" He chuckled at his joke, but the amber-eyed female didn't seem to notice his corny attempt at humour.

Mikan clutched at her hair, making it messier than it previously was. "I'm such a scatter-brained idiot!"

_So she admits it_, Ruka thought smugly, crinkling his nose as he watched the brunette flit about the grounds. She was an eyesore in her bright clothing set against the white of the snow and the grey of the campus buildings.

"I'm so sorry, Nogi-bastard!"

"Hey, you don't apologise and insult a person in one sentence!" Ruka felt a sense of dread come over him. Looks like he was going to lose the bet after all. _Hello, bunny pyjamas…_

Mikan flailed her arms around as she continued running aimlessly in circles. "I forgot! I forgot, damn it!" She stopped abruptly and faced him. "Hotaru and I are sort of… at a disagreement right now." She clasped her hands together behind her back. "When this happens, Hotaru doesn't talk to me in a pretty long while. The silent treatment can last two days to two years." The brunette laughed nervously, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Looks like I can't make your one week deadline. You're not mad at me, are you, Ruka?"

Ruka didn't respond, for he was already walking away. He had prepared himself for this; he knew that Mikan was an unreliable person. He stalked away, ignoring her commands to stop.

When the blond didn't stop, Mikan was about to run after him, but a car blocked her path.

It was a black limousine – it came charging through the gates. The guards that tried to stop it were mercilessly run over. The gates were banged open, dented but the car suffered heavy damage as well. The driver of the limousine continued on his rampage, ramming right into the icy fountain.

Mikan screamed as two hooded men jumped out of the car and rushed at her. One grabbed her from behind, pulling her arms behind her back. The other put a gun to her head. His free hand was inside his inner jacket pocket, apparently fishing for something.

Ruka had whirled around at the deafening sound of metal screeching against metal, and was horrified at the sight of a banged up Mercedes destroying the fountain of frozen angels – the Academy's logo. He was even more horrified when two burly men came out of the sorry sight of a car and accosted Mikan.

The noble thing to have done was to run up to the trio and try to save Mikan, but surely those hulking thugs would knock him out. Worse, he could get shot or Mikan could even get killed.

Ruka's insides were twisting – the best chance he got now was to take a picture of the scene and run. If they took Mikan away, his photographs might help the authorities track the kidnappers down.

The thug with the gun produced a letter from his pocket, and motioned for Ruka to come closer. Neither thugs had sinister smiles on their faces, so the blond had no idea if it was safe for him to approach.

"To hell with it! I'm not some hero or fighter," Ruka growled as he snapped away with his camera. "I'm not Goku Son from Dragon Ball. I'm a damn photographer!"

The thugs exchanged glances. The handsome young man wasn't trying to be a hero for once? This was certainly new to them.

Mikan, however, seemed to prefer the cliché as she headbutted her captor in the chin, who let go for her as he swore and clutched his injured body part. She broke into a run to scream at the Nogi bastard for his lack of chivalry, but was disabled by two gunshots – one in her right calf and the other to her back.

The brunette cried out in pain as she fell for the third time, face first into the snow. Unbelievable pain shot up her back and leg, but she soon went numb from the pain and the cold as her mind tuned out. She was lost in her memories.

When she was younger, she used to catch snowflakes on her tongue as she danced around the Imai garden, thinking they would taste like ice cream. Hotaru used to call her an idiot from her perch on the porch steps as she spat out the dirty water.

At that moment, Mikan couldn't think of anything but how bitter the snow tasted. She wondered if she was bleeding, and if her blood would stain the snow. She wondered if the blood-flavoured snow would be tasty to someone else. Maybe vampires?

Ruka's photographer instincts took over as he unconsciously ran to a higher place – he had momentarily forgotten that the bleeding woman in the snow was his best friend's crush, and that this was a kidnapping scene. He felt like a newspaper reporter, getting a big scoop for a promotion.

He leapt onto a tree stump to get better photos of the blood and injuries. This was foolish, however, because he then became target practice for the thugs.

One of the limousine windows rolled down, and a shadowed figure jeered angrily, "Incompetent morons! If she dies, the mission objective is lost forever."

"We are sorry, sir," the gun wielder said monotonously, not sounding sorry at all and pocketing the weapon. His partner picked up a rock from the ground, crumpled the letter his partner withdrew from his jacket, wrapped it around the rock and threw it at Ruka's head. It hit home.

The blond felt something connect solidly with his head, and he closed his eyes, feeling queasy all of a sudden. Next thing he knew he was on his back, looking up at the cloudy sky. It was grey, but it quickly turned to black, and then nothingness.

His camera lay beside him, smashed beyond repair.

The rock-throwing brute scooped the unmoving Mikan into his arms while his hooligan partner held the car door open for them. Hostage secured, the limousine backed out of the fountain and through the gates.

\\\\

Mikan's head felt heavy and her neck felt weak – too weak to support her head, for it lolled on her chest.

Her chest felt constricted, and as she flexed her muscles she realised she was bound to a chair by ropes. Her back and legs ached, but when she tried to stretch she found that her ankles were tied to the chair's legs.

Mikan could smell gunpowder in the air – was she in a warehouse? Head still lowered in case any guards were around, she opened her eyes but all she could see was darkness. A blindfold covered her eyes, sealing her sense of sight.

She wondered what she was doing there when she suddenly recalled Ruka, the limousine, the broken fountain, and the gunshots… She shivered involuntarily at the abrupt recollection of unpleasant events. She hoped that her captors did not see her movement, bur she wasn't so lucky.

"The hostage is awake." It was a man's voice.

"Untie her." This time it was a woman's, but it sounded urgent – impatient and agitated, even.

When the cloth was removed from Mikan's eyes, it didn't take her long to adjust to the dim light – a single light bulb suspended from the ceiling was the only thing illuminating the room. She was indeed in a warehouse, and even though there were windows, the dark clouds blocked the moon's light.

Mikan looked around dazedly, seeing innumerable crates stacked atop one another.

The smell of gunpowder was thick in the air, so she suspected that she was in an illegal armaments warehouse.

Her muse stirred inside her, feeding her with different scenes and plots for a new story. She was a writer after all. It would be a Drama/Angst/Action-Adventure story… Mikan's eyes went glazy as she lost herself in her imagination, discarding emotions of panic and confusion, forgetting about the people back at the Academy who would be worrying their heads off right about now.

She could imagine the hero bursting into the warehouse with a torch of fire because they were in a rural place with no electricity. He was oblivious to the firearms and explosives, foolishly stepping into the storehouse and setting off a massive explosion.

Oh, he and his lovely kidnapped heroine would be blown into bits along with the bad guys. Their friends find their bloodied carcasses later on, and toss the villains' heads into the sea. Sharks would swim miles just to feed… At the funeral, the heroine's torso would go missing because her sex-starved, secret-admirer-slash-stalker stole it for his occult purposes, attempting to trap her soul in a jar and feeding it to a female with an uncanny resemblance to the heroine… Then she and the stalker would live happily ever after…

The man in the warehouse grimaced, staring at the unsightly, malevolent smirk on his hostage's face. Weren't hostages supposed to be cowering in fear, even shrieking in panic and demanding to know what the hell was going on right about now? He wondered if he should be the one afraid right now, though, as the girl looked like a lunatic who was planning her next killing spree.

His accomplice, however, didn't seem to share his thoughts. Her gnarled hand – looking even more hideous with her long, lime green nails that she thought sexy but just made her look like a pocket mother, or, in more modern terms, a pimp – yanked the brunette's hair.

Mikan's plot bunny feeding time was put to an end as her head was snapped back roughly. A bolt of pain shot up her spine because of the bullet hole in her back. The hand that grabbed her let go, and Mikan's brightly-coloured hat – God knows how it stayed on her head all those times she fell, but they say like-minded fools attract, and the craziness of the hat probably stuck to her mind's insanity – fell softly to the ground.

"My hat!" the brunette shrieked, looking clearly upset. She had knitted that beanie herself!

"Your hat? Your God damned hat!" The woman with the ugly hands stomped on the vulgar piece of wool, eliciting another whine from the hostage. "You think this hell ugly hat is more important than your situation right now, brat? I always thought you were a stupid kid. I've got no idea how the shit you got into that damned genius school."

The wrinkled claws reached out again, but this time grabbing the brunette's chin firmly. The repulsive talons dug into Mikan's chin, turning her to look the even uglier owner in the eye.

The scream that followed could have shattered glass.

"It's a shit ugly zombie!"

The resounding slap that followed created a silence so tense, lizards suffocated. Suddenly, the shit ugly zombie spoke.

"You damn seed! Who do you think you're talking to? I won a beauty pageant before. Hell, I'm your mother!"

Mikan's amber eyes focused on the face before her. As she stared at the mass of wrinkles on the once youthful face – what happened to the Botox? she wondered – she found herself looking into a familiar pair of dispassionate, rheumy brown eyes and dry, cracked lips. Arid, frizzy brown hair with flecks of grey framed the sunken face. The zombie's skin was a grotesque patchwork of colours – some parts were creamy white, others were raw meat red, some decayed grey and the rest was just an ugly shade of burnt brown.

The two brunettes stared at each other, the younger one formulating possibilities as to what could have happened to the woman she had once considered beautiful. Her face now looked like a shrunken head necromancers used in the books Mikan had read – even the rest of her body was skeleton-like and wrinkled.

"Well, are you going to stare at me all day or give me that welcome home kiss you always tried to plant on me?"

Mikan blinked a few times, then broke into a feral grin. When she was still living with her mother, she never really understood what her mom did or what she even was. Now that she was older and wiser, she prided herself in this golden opportunity to let her mother know what she really thought of her.

"Hi, Mama Whore," she said happily, enjoying the feel of the crude words on her lips. "You have no idea how much I've always hated you."

\\\

"Nogi. Nogi."

Ruka stirred slightly, snuggling deeper into his soft fluffy pillow. "Just a sec, mom."

Koko sniggered, casting a glance at an irate Hotaru. She kicked the hospital bed with such tremendous force, it sent the blond flying out of his comfy white nest.

"Who's the asshole who did that?" Ruka yelled in fury, his eyes livid and his shock of yellow hair wild and messy.

Natsume, standing by the doorway, calmly pointed to the female genius that was regarding him dispassionately. The blond blushed, immediately regretting his harsh words.

"I-Imai," he stammered, flushing furiously. "S-sorry about that. What are you doing here?"

"Mikan," she said simply, "she's gone. Last I heard, she was seen with you." Her apathetic eyes suddenly narrowed, a vicious gleam appearing. "What did you do to her, Nogi-bastard?"

"Nothing!" the blond cried out. Then, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He was with Mikan? "I don't remember being with her."

Hotaru frowned, groaning softly. "The doctor was right – looks like he's gotten a concussion."

"Damn." Natsume punched the doorframe. "If she really was kidnapped, we won't be able to give chase right away."

Three pairs of eyes glared at the blond on the floor accusatorily, which made him increasingly nervous. What happened to the looks of sympathy people always gave hospitalised patients?

\\\

**To be continued…**

It's not my usual style, I think, aside from the multiple vulgarities. I think the kidnapping scene was a bit clumsy – any suggestions to clean it up a bit? Actually, any suggestions to improve this story are very welcome indeed. I have a terrible habit of using redundancies so if that has reared its ugly head here, do tell me as well.

Also, I know that there are a lot of sub-plots in this story – mostly related to the characters' pasts – so if, in future chapters, there are any awkward transitions in the narration, do tell me as well so I can clean that up right away.

I wanted to categorise this story as Drama/Humour, but I don't think it's very apt – maybe I'm the only one who finds this funny. Let me know what you guys think, which genres this story should be put in. In the meanwhile, this will remain as simply Drama.

Reviews, please?


	2. Interviews

Okay, to clear things up a bit, Naoko Sakura is NOT Mikan's real mother. I made her up to play the bad guy because I like Yuka Azumi and I'd feel oh-so terrible making her the villain. Oh, and there's a special appearance in this story... Can you guess who it is? Those who've read my first-ever GA fan fic ought to know.

\\\\\\\**  
The Pinnacle  
2: Interviews**  
\\\\\\\\

Mikan crossed and uncrossed her legs – which had been freed from the ropes – impatiently. She squirmed in the hard wooden seat, the ropes bound around her wrists and torso burning her flesh uncomfortably.

"It's useless moving around so much," the man – Naoko Sakura's accomplice – sneered. He was leaning against one of the cargo boxes in the warehouse, arms crossed and glaring at the brunette.

"But I have to pee," Mikan whined, pouting. "I can't hold it any longer!" She bounced on her buttocks for emphasis. "That's it! I'm going to jingle right here and now!"

The man's eyebrow twitched in annoyance. "Fine. Go ahead. See if I care."

The brunette scowled, gnashing her teeth together in anger. Her plan had failed. "Why do you follow that whore's orders?"

"'That whore' is your mother," the man said simply. His face was carefully wiped clean of any emotion.

"She abandoned me."

"Then be thankful that she came back for you. Mine never did." He mumbled the last part, but Mikan heard it all the same. She felt her heart soften for the thug just a little bit.

"Tell me," she hesitated, brows furrowed in confusion as she realised that he did not impart his name.

"Hiro. Hiro Hayasaka."

"Hiro." Mikan liked the way the name rolled off her lips. "Tell me, Hiro. Do _mothers_ usually bitch-slap their children?"

Hiro rolled his eyes before casually walking to the brunette. He leaned forward, hands on his hips. His sharp, amber gaze met with Mikan's. "Only when punishing their children when they did something naughty. In your case, it was your foul mouth that made Nao-san punish you." With his pale fingers, he flicked her forehead. The brunette closed her eyes, bracing the hit.

"Careful! I could lose IQ points that way!" Mikan shrieked. Hiro merely chuckled, shaking his head as he walked away.

Mikan watched him settle back into his leaning position against the box before speaking. "I know what you're thinking. You must be thinking, 'How could this girl lose any more IQ points, when she probably hasn't got very much to begin with, judging from her lack of tact?'" This caused the dark-haired man to raise an eyebrow. "'How could this idiot have been admitted into the Alice Academy? The admission criteria have certainly deteriorated since my day. They'll probably let just about anyone in.'"

Hiro's eyebrow disappeared into his raven-coloured bangs. "I am somewhat amused, admittedly." A small smile graced his thin lips, which had been set in a tight line. "How did you know I was a student of the Academy?"

"It's the way you carry yourself," Mikan answered quietly, the mischievous glint in her eyes extinguished. She imitated Hiro's poker face. "I've seen many like you in the Academy. Let me guess – your course was either music or mathematics?"

"You shouldn't stereotype people."

"It's a bad habit," Mikan snapped, "and bad habits die hard."

The two stared at each other for what seemed like the time a cocoon takes to morph into a butterfly. The tension was suffocating – the warehouse seemed to be the vessel of animosity lately. A ship's horn sounded in the distance, which meant the warehouse was near a harbour. Finally, the older of the two broke the silence.

"How old are you, Sakura-san?"

"Fifteen. How old are you, Hayasaka-san?"

"Twenty-seven. What course are you taking in the Academy, Sakura-san?"

"Combined humanities, Hayasaka-san."

"I see."

Silence again. Mikan was starting to fume. "What the hell! Is this some kind of family reunion?! I get enough of these questions during New Year's!"

"What happens during New Year's?" came Hiro's amused reply. Mikan scowled at him, but answered nonetheless.

"We travel to Shanghai to spend time with Hotaru's relatives."

"'We'?"

"The Imais and I."

"Your adoptive family?"

"Yes."

"How long have you been with them?"

"For as long as my mother abandoned me."

"Which is…?"

"Eleven years. Actually, going twelve now."

"Ah, that's a long time."

"Yes." Mikan sniffed.

This Hiro character was a strange one, but it was better than the terse silence that had reigned after Naoko had exited the warehouse, and before Mikan initiated her "I-need-to-pee-so-untie-me-quick-then-I-will-run-away" plan.

"Why are you so interested in my family life?" she asked him, eyes wide with sincerity.

He shrugged._ Because you remind me so much of myself_.

"Ne, ne, Hayasaka-san!" The mischievous glint had manifested itself once more. "Did your parents ever fart openly in front of you?"

"W-What?"

"You know, sometimes Hotaru's parents would sit at the dining table and they'd talk. Suddenly they'd stop, lean slightly to the left, and let one rip."

Hiro's jaw slackened. "Err, Mikan-chan? Why are you telling me this?"

Mikan bounced in the wooden seat again. "Because you wanted to know more about my family, right? Do everybody's parents do that? Or just Hotaru's? I would never fart in front of anyone else – in private and in public! So why do they do it so openly? Do you think it has something to do with closeness? If that's the case, it's symbolic, isn't it?"

Hiro wasn't sure why, but the girl's odd antics made him want to laugh. And laugh, he did. It came from his diaphragm, hearty, and it howled out from his mouth as he threw his head back. He laughed. It echoed throughout the warehouse, scaring cockroaches back into their hiding places amongst the shadows of crates; bouncing off the walls and making poor, unsuspecting lizards lose their grips.

Suddenly, the door banged open and the shit ugly zombie aka Naoko Sakura stood there, fuming – literally, in the French sense. She held a cigarette between her wrinkled fingers, and smoke billowed out of her crusty nostrils.

"Hiro!" she barked. "The car's outside. Get that wench in there."

Sobered up and poker face on once more, Hiro nodded serenely. He silently untied Mikan and pulled her into a standing position. Wrists still bound, he prodded the brunette's back with his knee, signalling that she should move forward. At the doorway, mother and daughter exchanged murderous glares, before Mikan was marched outdoors.

Hiro promptly pulled a sack over her head to stop her from knowing their location. As he secured the drawstring around her nape, he whispered, so that Naoko wouldn't hear: "Thank you for allowing me to interview you, Mikan Sakura-san. Perhaps next time you will have a chance to interview me, too."

Mikan allowed herself to be ushered into the car without a fight. As she settled into the plush leather seat, she beamed beneath the canvas material. She hadn't totally succeeded in her plan, but it was a start – she had gained a valuable ally in Hiro Hayasaka.

\\\\\\\\\\

Natsume paced back and forth in the campus clinic's waiting lounge – which, with its cosy armchairs and fireplace, seemed more like a ski lodge than a medical facility. For the nth time, brown eyes flicked to the red clock on the mantelpiece.

The young man was never known for his patience, and he usually took his anger out on things that were not to blame. This time, the innocent clock on the mantelpiece was his victim. He grabbed it and threw it into the fire, watching the red plastic melt in the embers.

His violence made Koko flinch inwardly, while Hotaru, sitting beside him, merely sipped the cup of hot cocoa the school nurse had kindly prepared for her. "Calm down, Hyuuga."

"Time is moving too slowly for me."

"That clock is not to blame. It does not control time."

"Hn. It is a manifestation of time."

"What good does it do in a battle to kill the pawn? He did not start the war."

"What good does it do to my temper, to spare the pawn when his manipulator cannot be found?"

"Ah, what an analogous conversation!" Ruka piped up cheerfully, clapping his hands together as he stepped out of the doctor's office.

"Ruka!" Natsume grabbed his shoulders and shook him furiously. "Is your memory back?"

"Natsume, it's only been a few hours," he reasoned. "The doctor said I might not be able to remember what happened for another day or two. Besides, we've already made a police report. The higher-ups will take care of this."

Natsume snarled in irritation as he ran his hands through his unruly hair, pacing back and forth once more. He was going to make a pit in the carpet, the nurse observed wryly from her reception desk.

"Damn it! You can't freakin' trust authority, Ruka! They've got all their damned protocol and action-taking steps! You can't rely on them to get a job done right."

"Hyuuga." Hotaru's acidly calm voice made the teen look at her. "Why do you care so much for Mikan?"

"Why don't you?"

Hotaru set her cup down on the coffee table in front of her. She glared at him. "Don't think you know me, Hyuuga. I may not be working myself into a fit because of her disappearance, but that doesn't mean I don't care about her."

Natsume was the first to break off from their intense staring competition. "So you're perfectly fine with entrusting your best friend to incompetent strangers." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. One which seemed to infuriate the genius girl, apparently.

Hotaru arranged her face carefully, so that the smug contempt she was feeling did not seep into her countenance. "Despite what others say about me, don't think that I'm so selfish that I don't give two hoots about others. I know what they say about you, Hyuuga. I'm not like you – I don't have trust issues or authority complexes."

Natsume hissed venomously, "What a hypocrite you are, Imai. You say not to believe in rumours, when you seem to deem them perfectly fine to believe. Don't think you know me, Imai."

This was when the nurse decided to interject. Hands on her hips, she chided the teenagers and, like naughty schoolchildren, made them sit in opposite corners of the room. She sighed as she made her way back to her desk. This was the thing about a school just for geniuses – the lack of camaraderie and teamwork because the gifted kids were too damned individualistic and caught up in their own self-serving affairs.

The phone rang and the nurse picked it up on the third ring. Four pairs of eyes looked at her earnestly once she put down the phone. She shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry. The police haven't located her yet."

\\\\\\\\\

"Ne, why do we have to move?" Mikan shifted in her seat, but the seatbelt that was used as a rope improvisation was fastened too tight around her waist and chest. She let out a frustrated sigh.

She heard Naoko's husky laughter beside her. "Oh, this little bit of information will make you happy. The police have been on our trail – apparently your kidnapping has already been reported."

Mikan contemplated for a while. "You are a kidnapper," she stated. "Your incentive for kidnapping is money. Didn't you already deliver your ransom letter? Why would you need to run away from the authorities if they've got what you want?"

"Ah, but we can never be too sure that they will comply to their demands, can we?" Naoko took another drag out of her cigarette and blew the smoke out. Mikan did her best to show her disgust by gagging. "It's still too early to give you back, my dear. We need to put up a more convincing act, bait your friends a bit more…"

"Does this mean you will hand me over?"

"Possibly."

"I hate you."

"I know."

\\\\\\\\

**To be continued...**

Yes, it's short. I wrote it in spite of an asshole of a keyboard. Oh well.

Anyway, it was short (never mind the keyboard) because it's a transitional chapter. I also apologise for the lack of humour - I am not a funny person. If anyone has any funny/corny jokes, leave them in your review and I'll make Ruka say them in the future chapters (:

Oh yes, I almost forgot - don't forget to vote for your favourite Mystery story in the GARCA! It's a tie between Goshikku Seirei's _The World Is A Vampire_ and my _Two Quarters And A Heart Down_. The link for voting is on my profile. You need a fan fiction (dot) net account to vote, so any anonymous voters have to e-mail me.


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